High Flyer (Verdant String)

by Michelle Diener

  “And you. Don't forget, they tried to kill you, too.”

  She blinked. Iver sounded pretty pissed about that. More than he was about their attempt on him.

  There was a moment of silence before he finally nodded.

  “The key word in what you said there is 'eventually'.” Iver spooned up some of his dyr.

  “You think it's time sensitive?” She considered that. Nodded. “It would explain the amateur hour search team.”

  “You're being unfair.” Iver tipped his head at her. “They didn't think they'd need a search team. They used three missiles against us. They had no idea how good a pilot you are.”

  “Lancaster did.” As she said it, she realized that wasn't quite true. Lancaster knew she was good, but no one really knew how good. She tried hard enough to hide it.

  Linnel . . . well, Linnel seemed to know better than anyone.

  Iver shook his head. “He didn't fly with you often, and getting a resume saying you're the best isn't the same as understanding just how talented you are.”

  She hunched her shoulders. That was true. Even she didn't understand quite how good she was. The line on what was possible had blurred for her in the years since her accident. That's why she'd wanted to go to the Spikes. To find some explanation.

  “What is it?” Iver touched her cheek, slowly turning her head to face him full on. “You seem to withdraw whenever your skill comes up.”

  She closed her eyes. “I don't deserve praise for being able to do what I do.”

  She had worked hard to be a good pilot, but so had all her colleagues in the war. They'd certainly had enough practice.

  The thing that pushed her over the edge to great was nothing but a stumbling, horrifying mistake.

  She opened her eyes when Iver dropped his hand, and she turned back to look at the fire.

  She cleared her throat. “So you're saying it could be that Lancaster needed to stall the questioning, so he decided to kill you? Don't you think that would bring too much attention on him? After all, we already suspect him. Whoever Arkhor would send to investigate your death would take a hard look at him. He could just as easily have delayed you some other way.”

  “Unless it was make or break. But you're right.” He conceded her point with a nod, stretching out his legs and leaning forward on forearms corded with muscle.

  “What else are you involved with right now?”

  He glanced at her. “Confidentially, we're about to start a trial of the sky lane between Touka and Permeo. I was going to Touka today to sign off on the construction phase.”

  She tapped her fingers on her knee. “What happens after you sign off?”

  “We announce the project, and surveying in the Spikes starts in a few days.”

  “And if you were dead and couldn't sign off on anything?”

  He leaned back, tilted his head to look at the sky. “Then it would be chaos for a good few months.”

  “Did Lancaster know about the project?” Unable to resist, Hana leaned back to look at the stars as well.

  “In a general sense.” Iver looked over at her. “But even I only got the green light for the trial from the VSC yesterday. Because I'd done work setting things up ahead of time, I was able to pull it together right away for a quick start, but Lancaster only found out it was imminent when I asked him to arrange for you to pick me up last night.”

  “What could he be hiding in the Spikes between Touka and Permeo?” she asked.

  He sighed. “I trusted him. I've got no idea what his motivations are.”

  Suddenly the darkness lit up, dancing with the greens, reds and blues of the aurora, the crazy zigzags like pure, colorful energy. The heartbeat of the sky.

  It never got old.

  She'd been born on the Verdant String planet of Themis, had spent all her life there until the military had sent her to Faldine to fight, and even the deep green forests of home had nothing on the Faldine aurora.

  Whatever had gotten inside her in that terrible accident during the war, whatever was responsible for what she thought of as her upgrade, seemed to respond to the aurora as well, to fizz a little in her blood whenever they appeared. It was both disturbing and exhilarating, a moment when whatever it was made itself known, rather than crouching silently inside her.

  She thought of it as tiny organisms in her blood, but couldn't quite remember why she thought that. She didn't remember much of what happened.

  The crash, her staggering out of the Dynastra and then collapsing.

  She just, at the very edge of her memory, thought she curled her fingers around a short string of metallic beads as she lay on the ground beside her burning runner. Half the time she discounted that out of hand. It just seemed too absurd.

  What would beads be doing at her crash site?

  She worried--worried a lot--that whatever it was, it wasn't as obvious to her anymore, not because it was fading away, but because she was more integrated with it. That it had become an indistinguishable part of her.

  “Where did you go?”

  Iver's question forced her to turn to face him.

  He had lain back on the grass, but he wasn't looking up as the aurora washed his face in blues and reds, he was looking at her.

  “You don't want to know.”

  “That's the kicker. I do want to know. I want to know everything about you.” He made it sound as if he wasn't happy about it, either.

  She gave a chuckle at his aggrieved tone. “I really like you too much.” She went still as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She hadn't meant to say anything more, let alone tell him the truth.

  “And that's a problem because . . .?”

  She sighed. “It's complicated.”

  He gave a snort. “That again? What isn't?”

  He went back to looking at the sky and she wriggled down onto her back and pillowed her head with her hands, looking up at the light show.

  “You stopped taking women to fancy planetary and city events.” She didn't know why she said it.

  “Because you were the only woman I wanted to take.”

  She knew that was what he was saying to her when three weeks into working for him he'd stopped taking anyone to the many dinners and social events he attended as the VSC's head of planet for Faldine.

  She was honest enough to know she'd appreciated it. And yet, she'd been a coward and hadn't faced what it meant.

  “I . . . I was glad.”

  He turned to her and grinned. “Now this is progress.”

  She quirked her lips. “Lancaster noticed what you were doing, and he didn't like it.”

  “Fuck Lancaster.” Iver's tone didn't change, but she read the fury at Lancaster's betrayal in his eyes. “He convinced me you'd walk if I was too obvious, which is the only reason I never pushed.” He gave a sudden bark of laughter. “Bet he regrets convincing me to add the guns to the Sig.”

  Hana grinned. “Yes, that was a poor decision on his part. Probably he never thought he'd take you in the Sig. Maybe he never planned to kill you at all, he hoped you just wouldn't know what he was doing.”

  Iver gave a slow nod. “He definitely has more access to information where he is, with me in charge and trusting him, than he would with someone new who would want their own people.”

  “He must have been desperate to organize the hit on you, then.” She was uneasy with the resources Lancaster had been able to harness and his escalation to violence.

  She suddenly yawned and with a last look at the flickering lights overhead, she forced herself to her feet. They had a day's walk ahead of them tomorrow. “I've got a spare toothbrush,” she said, bending over her pack and pulling out the small bag with her toiletries. When she turned, Iver was standing right beside her, crowding into her space.

  She handed the toothbrush to him, refusing to back down, and he feathered his fingers over her forehead, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  “What would you have done if I hadn't followed Lancaster's advice, if I'd pushe
d a little harder for a relationship with you?”

  Her instinct was to brush off the question with a flippant reply, but she forced herself to consider it. He was putting his cards on the table, waiting patiently for her to respond.

  “I don't know. Right at the beginning, when I was new to the job, I'd probably have left. I had turned down three other job offers before I came to work for you, so while I wouldn't have liked leaving, it would have been relatively easy to. But after you stopped taking partners to the dinners . . .” She lifted her shoulders. “I'd have stayed, and worked my way through it with you.” She hesitated. “Probably like we're doing now.”

  He leaned forward, just a little, and brushed his lips where his fingers had just been. “I can deal with that.” His voice sounded a little hoarse.

  She stepped back, her gaze going to the tent again before she faced the stream, and began walking toward it to clean her teeth and wash her face.

  “I can sleep outside, if it worries you.” He was suddenly beside her, shoulders brushing hers again.

  She was embarrassed that he had read her nerves over sharing such a small space with him, could feel the heat on her cheeks. “I feel like an idiot, and no, I don't want you to sleep outside.”

  She knelt at the river bank and splashed water on her face, rubbed in some cleanser and then rinsed it off.

  He was staring at her in the darkness, but she wondered how much of her expression he could see.

  As the magfield wasn't too close to the surface here, her own night vision was enhanced. She could see clearly on his face he was concerned about her.

  She was glad of the cool water, because her cheeks felt even hotter.

  She held out the toothpaste and he took it from her with a quirk of his lips. They brushed their teeth together in companionable silence, with nothing but the cries of the night birds and the gurgle of the stream around them.

  It was quite domestic.

  By the time they were snuggled into the tent, Hana had managed to let go of her nerves, grateful to be warm and comfortable. The top of the tent was transparent, so the aurora that still played and danced above them was visible.

  “All right?” Iver's voice was a rumble against her ear.

  She gave a nod, snuggled in closer to his chest, and unbelievably, fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 5

  As soon as Hana moved, Iver woke up.

  She wriggled under the arm he'd slung over her sometime in the night and crouched at the entrance to the tent. “Someone's coming.”

  Her voice was low and flat, unlike he'd ever heard her, and then she shook herself, as if coming out of a trance. “I can hear a runner.”

  Iver moved, sliding out after her and collapsing the tent in seconds.

  “Which direction?” He couldn't hear a thing.

  She pointed, and at last he heard the faintest of rumbles.

  He set aside his interest in her astonishing hearing and put the tiny square the tent had folded into in her pack.

  They moved toward the river, leaving nothing behind them.

  They'd buried the remains of their fire under sand and rocks before they'd gone to sleep and Lancaster would have to be unusually lucky to find where they'd camped.

  They'd already discussed what they'd do if they needed to hide, so there was no talking as Iver slid into the river. Hana slipped in next to him, barely making a sound.

  It was freezing. And deeper than he'd expected.

  They'd chosen to camp in this spot because the river had a high bank on one side, including another scooped-out cave like the one they'd used before.

  This one was narrower and deeper, though.

  They barely fit in together, and both of them took the time to go in feet first, so they faced the river. Iver had his SAL out, and Hana took it from him, checking it out.

  “You've shot one before?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I had to do basic training, like everyone else. I carried one, as standard battle gear, but I never had to use it.” She slid the cartridge out, looked at the neat line of tranquilizer cartridges. “I heard they're thinking about using these more broadly within the VSC, because they can't be set to kill, unlike a laz.”

  Iver hadn't heard that, but it made sense. The SAL had been a necessary alternative to the laz given the dangers the magnetic fields of Faldine posed. Laz fire had a disconcerting tendency to act more like lightning than anything else on Faldine, vacillating wildly.

  Shooting a laz, as the first Verdant String settlers had discovered, could be just as deadly for the shooter or the friends beside them as for whoever they were shooting at.

  Hana handed the SAL back to him and then went still, a look on her face telling him she was concentrating hard, and he guessed she was listening for the runner.

  “They're close.” She glanced at him. “Too close.”

  “As in 'how did they know which direction to choose' close?” There was really only one logical explanation for that.

  “Electronic tag,” Hana said. “The magfield will be interfering, so they'll have to get closer to get a signal.”

  He gave a nod of agreement. “If there's one on either one of us, they'd have managed to get a general direction when they were coming in. Now they'll be hunting to refine it.”

  The aurora had finished hours before, but the lack of it meant the moonlight was useful again, and Iver caught a glimpse of Hana's face. She was worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

  “I should have thought of a tag earlier.”

  “Why?” He hadn't either. “The first team didn't behave as if they had a tag to follow.”

  “Probably Lancaster didn't think we'd get away. Now he's not sure if we did or not, he's come to check.”

  The logic of it was undeniable. “And because they're heading right for us, they've been getting an intermittent signal, at the very least. So Lancaster knows we made it. And generally where we are.”

  “The good news keeps coming.” Her voice held a hint of humor, and sudden, unexpected desire flashed through him.

  He was plastered up against her, so it was no trouble at all to bend his head and give her a quick, hard kiss.

  She went still under him, and then, to his surprise and delight, kissed him back, her lips firm against his.

  She cleared her throat delicately, and he thought he saw a flush of color on her cheeks.

  Before he could tease her, the sound of a big runner coming closer had him focusing again.

  Hana drew in a deep breath. “We need to find that tag.”

  “I know.” It was most likely in his clothing, but unlike Hana, he had nothing spare. His luggage had gone up with the Sig.

  Still, if it kept them alive . . . “I'll strip off everything.”

  She was looking in the direction of the runner, tension in every line of her. “I'm going to trust you with something.”

  He waited, saying nothing.

  She drew in a deep breath. “The magfield is weak enough here that I can find the tag on you, if there is one.”

  “All right.” Of everything he thought she'd say, this was the last thing he'd expected.

  She turned to him, reaching out her hands.

  He didn't know what he expected. Given her nervousness, he assumed she was about to bring out a banned or modified scanner of some kind. Some illegal equipment he, as the head of planet, would be obliged to report her over. What he didn't expect was for her to run her fingers over him, starting at the top of his head.

  “What if the tag is on you?”

  “It isn't. I've checked.”

  He wondered when she'd done that, but said nothing as her fingers ran down his neck, over his shoulders and then down the front of his chest.

  She hesitated when she got to his crotch, and he couldn't help leaning in. “It's nothing you haven't felt before.” His voice was a husky whisper.

  She lifted her gaze to his, and despite the situation, the rising noise of the runner coming their way, he c
ould see the gleam of humor in her gold-brown eyes as she inclined her head. “It's poked me in the back a time or two.”

  Her lips quirked, but she didn't touch him intimately.

  “However good he is, I don't think Lancaster would be able to put a tag on you there.”

  Her arms came around him, and her hands rose up his back, and then came to a stop on his spine, just between his shoulder blades.

  “There.” She pressed the spot, and he felt a sudden sharp pain.

  “That's quite a gift you have.” He said it only to distract himself from the memory of him and Lancaster waking from a night out in the bush. They'd both been stiff and sore after spending a day whitewater rafting in the river near his home, and then drinking too much xitin around the campfire.

  He remembered how his back had hurt, and Lancaster lifting his shirt to check and giving an easy laugh.

  “You must have been sleeping directly on a sharp rock.” Lancaster's voice had been teasing. “You've got quite the bruise.”

  “What is it?” Hana's fingers had lifted off him. “You went somewhere.”

  “Lancaster did this.” He left it at that. Too angry for anything else. “But that doesn't answer how you found it.”

  “It's too long a story to be told now.” She flicked her gaze away and he gave a nod of agreement. But the story would be told. He would make sure of it.

  They went silent as the runner came even closer, moving slowly, most likely looking for the tag to light up.

  Hana twisted and reached back for her pack, her movements quick and sure, as if she could see what she was doing in the pitch dark at the back of the cave.

  She pulled a knife and some anesthetic gel out of a side pocket and then pulled his shirt up at the back.

  “Can you roll onto your stomach?” She seemed to plaster herself to the side and ceiling of the cave, giving him a little room to do just that, and then settled on the small of his back, her knees on either side of him, body bent low over him.

  The runner was much closer, and he heard the roar as it accelerated.